I am helping clean out the attic of my husband’s grandparents' home. Our best archeological find yet is a stamp that presses the words “Good Morning” into a piece of white bread, so – when toasted, the depressed letters stay white. “Talking toast”, it’s called. This is from the 1970’s, and each decade has a representative or two in the eclectica of Poppy’s house. In Michigan, we slip into our summer rhythms. Go for a run; jump in the lake; work while the kids nap; go to the beach; grill some dinner. Heaven. The family bumps into each other [...]